Moustache
by Asher Tye
Summary: When Dave finds Alvin alone in the bathroom, it opens up a conversation about growing up and the limitations of chipmunk machismo.


Moustache

By Asher Tye

Disclaimer: I do not own Alvin and The Chipmunks, though that's not to say I wouldn't mind. This story is being done for fun, not profit. If you happen to see it somewhere for sale, well, you should probably not buy it since I'm posting it here for free.

Author's Note: Okay, this is my first Alvin and The Chipmunks, but I've wanted to write at least something for this series for a while now. It's set in the cartoon universe of the second series, not the live action movies or the original series with Clyde Crashcup. This is only supposed to be a short story and will probably be the shortest one I've ever written, but I'm trying to get away from ten and twenty page updates if I can. Enjoy.

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><p>David Seville yawned and stretched; the joints in his shoulders and along his back popping a bit as he did so. The musician had been bent over his writing desk for the past two hours working diligently on two new songs. It was time for a break, especially since he hadn't heard anything from his three sons in all that time. While not an overly suspicious person, Dave had learned through experience that quiet children were not always well-behaved children.<p>

Walking out of his office, the songwriter went in search of the chipmunks that shared his house.

It didn't take him long to find Theodore. The youngest of the three triplets, creature of habit that he was, was currently in the kitchen. The chef's hat and apron he wore over his green sweater told his father that the plump drummer was not merely rummaging for a snack, but in the middle of cooking something. No doubt he was trying out the latest acquisition from his recipe of the month club "A Taste of the World." Whatever he was preparing to make, it looked like Theo was going to be using a rather large amount of cheese, a thought that made his father wrinkle his nose.

Moving along David made his way to the door to the basement. Inside Simon was present, hard at work in his "lab," or as Dave referred to it the "laundry-room-that-must-never-again-be-covered-in-pink-sludge-Simon-Seville-if-you-want-to-go-to-Space-Camp-this-summer." The blue clad chipmunk was busy staring intently at a flask containing a purple liquid David didn't recognize that was heating over a Bunsen burner. Once the first bubbles started to appear, the second oldest son deemed it ready and used a pair of tongs to pull it from the flames. Satisfied Simon wasn't going to blow anything up for now; Dave quietly closed the basement door.

Now there was just one more chipmunk to find. What puzzled the human was the fact that this one was not where he was supposed to be. Typically his oldest son Alvin plopped himself down in front of the TV after school. But no red baseball cap poked out above the couch, nor could his squeaky falsetto be heard cheering for any of the cartoon characters he normally watched. The TV wasn't even on.

Immediately a distressed lump appeared in Dave's stomach. Not knowing where Alvin was or what he was doing was just asking for trouble. Alvin was not known for his good judgment and common sense, especially when it came to amusing himself. The last thing his father needed was for the singer to accidentally flood the house again.

After a complete search of the first floor revealed not the chipmunk in question's location, Mr. Seville ascended the stairs to the second story. It was entirely possible Alvin was in the room he shared with his brothers, messing around with some of their toys or planning out what he wanted to do at their next concert. As he passed the bathroom the boys shared, Dave suddenly became aware of a grunting sound coming out of it. Curious he decided to investigate.

Inside the bathroom he did indeed find Alvin, leaning up on the sink in an effort to get his head as close to the mirror as possible. The boyish chipmunk twisted and contorted his face every which way, his eyes moving so he could continue to stare into the mirror. Alvin had always had a touch of narcissism, but this went a little beyond simply posing for himself.

"What are you doing?" Dave finally asked, startling his son who hadn't realized he'd suddenly gained an audience.

"Dave!" the red clad singer cried out in indignation as he pushed himself off the sink and back onto the floor. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!" As if to emphasize this point the boy grabbed his chest. "Knock next time; I might have been using the facilities."

"Okay, okay, sorry," Dave apologized, holding up his hands in submission. "But seriously, what are you doing? I didn't see you downstairs." Before answering Alvin once more hopped up on the sink, leaning into the mirror as he dangled by his tummy.

"I'm trying to figure out what kind of moustache I should grow," he answered simply as he resumed moving his face around. His father stood in the doorway a moment, unsure of what he'd just heard.

"Excuse me; did I hear you right when you said you were imagining yourself with a moustache?" Alvin let out an exasperated sigh.

"Not imagining, figuring out. I mean, if I'm going to grow one I need to think about how it should affect my image. Like maybe one of those thin French type moustaches." Alvin grabbed his chin and skewed his face up in an alluring smirk. "Oui, oui, madam, I am, 'ow you say, very 'andsome."

"You know you sound more like Pepe LePew," Dave pointed out.

"He's French, isn't he?" Alvin asked. "Ooh, or maybe one of those big, handlebar deals, something to show off my muscles with." The chipmunk began flexing his biceps, while flashing a roguish smile. "I bet that'd make me look tough and manly, like an action star." Suddenly a bright smile crossed his face. "Hey, maybe I could get a movie deal then!"

"Where is all this coming from?" Dave finally asked as Alvin started to chatter uncontrollably about what a cool superstar he'd be. Suddenly he remembered his father was in the room with him.

"What? Oh, a guy at school was showing off his new 'moustache' at school today. Vance I think. It was just a wispy little thing, I think he used a pencil to fill it in, but the girls were all over him." Dave rolled his eyes. He should have guessed this was about girls. Alvin turned back to the mirror. "If they think he was something, wait 'til they get a load of what's grows on my lip."

"Uh, Alvin, you do realize you're a chipmunk, right?" Dave asked, leaning against the door frame as he crossed his arms over his chest. Alvin giggled at that.

"Of course I know. It's the name of our band too. What's that got to do with it?"

"Well for one thing you're already covered from head to toe in hair." Alvin stopped in his posing; looking at himself in the mirror as though this thought had not occurred to him. "I'm afraid if you're waiting for a moustache, it's gonna be a long wait."

"You don't know that," Alvin pointed out. "Maybe all I need to do is let it grow out." His face brightened at that. "Hey, maybe I could get this done by month." He looked at his father. "I bet if I skipped my haircut this month I'd have one even quicker."

"You boys barely go to a barber as it is, and even then it's just a few snips before you're done," the older musician replied. "Face it Alvin, chipmunks just don't grow their hair long. I think what you have is about as big a moustache as you'll ever get."

"WHAT?" the cap-wearer squeaked. "But-But that's not fair! How am I supposed to look cool and macho without a moustache?"

_'Be an internationally renowned rock star?'_ Dave mused with some amusement.

"It's not the end of the world if you can't grow a moustache, Alvin. I'm sure if you think about it you'll find other ways to outdo this Vance person."

"Oh please, Vance is gonna get another week, two tops, of being big man on campus, then everyone's gonna forget all about him and I'll be on top again," declared Alvin with bravado. "But I don't need every second rater with something new on their face drawing away my fans."

"Alvin, that's not nice," Dave warned. Pride was good, but the last thing his eldest son needed to be doing was belittling others. "And they're not drawing away your fans."

"I know, I know." Still the youth looked depressed, his lips pursed in disappointment as thoughts of rampant lip hair began to disappear. Suddenly an idea struck him. "Hey, I bet I could get a fake moustache and no one would notice!" he declared. "Yeah, yeah, with real hair. And it wouldn't even have to be brown either. I could get a red one."

"Uh, that might not be the best idea if you want it to look real," Dave tried to explain.

"Ah, lotsa chipmunks have multiple hair colors. Look at the Chipettes."

"Well it would be a first, a chipmunk with a moustache," the human finally admitted. It seldom did any good to try to talk Alvin out of his bizarre schemes, and as far as they went this one probably didn't warrant an actual punishment. But still, Dave owed it to his son to at least try to save him from potential embarrassment. There were still pictures floating around of the time he'd tried to use elevator shoes to increase his height.

"Come on Dave, this could be great for us," Alvin said, trying to get his manager as excited about this as he was. "It'd be the start of a new era for the Chipmunks. A more adult and refined era." Dave chuckled threw on a snooty look.

"All right, all right, I suppose it wouldn't hurt anything if you got a fake moustache, but you're paying for it out of your allowance." At the mention of money Alvin deflated a bit.

"Hmm, maybe I could just make one from my own hair," he wondered aloud. "Bet that would make it seem even realer." His face skewed again at the thought of taking a razor to himself. "Or maybe Simon and Theodore. They have longer hair…"

"Uh-uh, no involving your brothers. If you want a chipmunk moustache, you have to provide it." At this the young singer seemed to backtrack a bit.

"A fake one should be all right. I mean no one really notices THAT much." Dave shook his head as Alvin went back to fantasizing about how different his life would be if he had a moustache.

_'No doubt about it, I have some very weird children,'_ he thought with a smile as he left his son in peace.

The End.


End file.
